


Unwilling Participant

by Felixbug



Series: Breaking the Silence [16]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 20:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3950434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I thought he wasn’t coming, you know? He told me later he spent an hour ‘arguing with himself’ on the doorstep.” Hawke laughed, but there was a little sadness in it too. “He didn’t even think until I suggested it that it might not have quite been </i>himself<i> he was arguing with.”</i></p><p>Justice's relationship with Hawke and Anders cause him to question his identity and his place in the world, and Hawke reassures him. They reflect on Hawke's first night with Anders, and Justice's involvement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwilling Participant

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not putting this into the series because I have no idea where it'd fit in the narrative, but I wrote this with _Breaking the Silence_ Hawke, Anders and Justice in mind :) Barely connected to the series at all so you won't miss anything by jumping straight in here, but if you enjoy their relationship dynamic and fancy something a little smuttier *vaguely points* I have other fics. Thanks to Daggerpen for beta reading!
> 
> Warnings for an extremely vague reference to rape as well as explicit discussion of consent in general, and brief but not quite as vague references to solitary confinement, Anders' relationship with Karl, and suicidal thoughts. Also mild sexual content.
> 
> EDIT: I found a place for it in the series! This was very much written as a standalone fic so feel free to skip it if the T rating doesn't grab you ;) Mostly just an alternate perspective on some things I touched on in Constellations, as well as Justice easing into the changes he mentioned in Reassurance.

This was no place for a spirit. The thought came to Justice as it often did, in these moments of peace. With Hawke’s body pliant and eager beneath him, he could forget what he was – he had slipped within a mortal’s skin and learned to do what mortals did, sweat and skin on skin and Hawke’s rasping breath against his neck. In the heat of battle, he was lightning and fire and the red stain of blood, movements that flowed like lyrium, a whirlwind of barely controlled destruction. He could pretend he had become a man and he could pretend he was still a spirit, motivated by his ideal and swayed by nothing, but when silence fell he was forced to remember that whatever he was, he was not a liar. This pretence could not last.

“Your brow does this – thing,” Hawke said, trailing his finger across Justice’s forehead. “When you’re thinking too hard. Or about to tear a Templar limb from limb, but I assume I wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“I am not planning violence.” He rolled onto his side, feeling the itch of sweat cooling on his skin and the drag of the sheets over his body and _how_ could touch be so pleasant in all of its indignities one moment, and so unbearable the next. He moved abruptly, sliding out of the bed to pace back and forth across the room, chilly night air grounding him in this body that was not his, no matter how hard he tried.

“Oh shit, Justice…” Hawke sat up, sheets pooling around his hips.

Justice saw the way the light framed him – deep orange from the dying fire and bright white-blue from his own body – playing over the contours of his muscles. He wanted him, he couldn’t help wanting him and it had been only minutes – this all-consuming desire was not what he had expected. It was too much – when he looked at Hawke he could feel his fire for the cause dwindle and he was terrified. Two, three steps away and his back was against the wall but it wasn’t far enough, wasn’t close enough, and he paced forward again. Uncertain, torn between what he had been and what he could be, he made a choice and finally settled on the edge of the bed at Hawke’s side.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hawke said. He was used to Anders – nightmares that left him screaming, weeping, incoherent with fear. Justice did not fear the same way – he did not know how to hide or ask for help, he only knew how to fight.

“I am different from what I was,” he said, and it summed up everything to him but told Hawke nothing. He tried again. “I am content. It is unsettling.”

“You’re – unsettled by being happy?” Hawke shifted and encouraged Justice to lie back stiffly against the pillows. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Not happy. Content.” The difference was important, how could Hawke not see? Mortals read a thousand secrets in the curl of a lip or the crease of a brow but could not understand – this was not a smile or a laugh, it did no harm that Justice took pleasure in Hawke’s conversation or his touch – it was the peace, the moment that came when euphoria fled and all that was left was the unbearable comfort of silence. “We cannot run.”

“We – that’s you and Anders?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to run?”

Justice studied Hawke’s face – pain, concern perhaps? He felt for Anders’ mind and Anders responded sluggishly; he had retreated deep but followed the thread of Justice’s panic. Justice looked at Hawke again and understood – concern, yes, and fear too. _He’s lost enough_ , Justice thought and knew it was not him, not entirely. _He can’t lose us._

“No,” Justice said. “We do not run, that time is past. Anders ran – I am a boy and I just want to go home, I am an apprentice no longer and he is _gone_ and I will follow if it kills me, I am ever more determined, desperate now and this is the last chance I’ll get – the games they play with the _skinny blond nightmare_ only go so far, they’re done with _trust and leniency_ and the worst of it is I’m glad – I’m glad whatever happens it won’t be the dark when they find me this time. I do not run. When the Wardens ask for sacrifice, when I ask him – me – us – for sacrifice, I am looking for a reason to _stop_.” He was breathing heavily, panic clawing at his chest that was not entirely his own but not entirely _not_ either, and he seized gratefully at Hawke’s offered hand.

“Love, I’m not sure I understand what this is about,” Hawke said gently. Justice loved that about him – loved it so much it _hurt_ – where Justice struggled to find the right words, Hawke fought constantly to find the right tone. Every word hung on the edge of a lapse into humour, jokes that weren’t quite jokes, fear just below the surface – Justice couldn’t understand everything but he understood lies, and far too many of Hawke’s smiles qualified. And Hawke understood that deception could never be a comfort to Justice, he did not find the safety in it that mortals did, and so he would strip himself bare for Justice to give him what he needed. “You’re safe here. You don’t need to run.”

“That is not…” Justice sighed. “I tried to prevent Anders’ relationship with you.”

“I know.” Hawke squeezed his fingers.

“He also chose to resist you, or to try – but I do not know how hard he would have fought if I had not been holding him back from you with all my strength. Anders has never loved wisely.” There was a flutter of discomfort from the back of Justice’s mind. “He prefers to believe he has never loved at all but – he did not run. When there was Karl, there was contentment, and he did not run.”

“Oh Maker, Anders…” Hawke released Justice’s hand and slipped an arm around his shoulders, and Justice melted against him – he didn’t quite know why he craved this warmth and pressure around his body, why physical touch could soothe a mental ache, but it was a comfort to both parts of him.

“I believed you would cause him to put aside our cause,” Justice said, and it burned to spit the words out, bitter regret tinging the taste of them. “I did not understand how much you cared – for mages, for him, for justice. I did not understand that you would not hold him back, that you would wish to stand beside him in this. I misjudged you but – the contentment remains. And I am more like him than I ever knew possible.” He shuddered, and although he thought perhaps he should pull away, he tucked himself closer against Hawke’s body instead, an arm around his waist, his face against his neck.

“You haven’t given up,” said Hawke. “Neither of you – I know I’m a distraction,” he chuckled softly against Justice’s hair, kissed the top of his head and squeezed him tight. Justice rumbled faintly and Hawke kissed him again. “I know you’re impatient, but it’s okay for you to slow down just a little, if that’s what you want. If it isn’t then _tell me_ and I’ll find a way to make this fit around you.”

“You are more understanding than we deserve.”

“I try. But you deserve everything, so I’ve got a little work to do yet.” Hawke paused for a moment. “Is this why you used to hate me?”

“I have _never_ hated you.”

“You didn’t seem particularly friendly,” Hawke said, rubbing soothing circles with his fingertips on Justice’s arm. “I’m not offended, I just thought…”

“For a time, I did not trust you.” The truth was an ugly thing, and for the first time Justice understood the reason mortals so frequently avoided speaking it. “Anders trusts easily – much of your support of mages could have been an act, token gestures to win his affection. I do not _like_ to be suspicious, but he is incapable of it far too often and I did what I could to protect him. When I walked with you in the Fade, when I saw how you fought for Feynriel, I began to feel differently. When you and I stood together against corruption and abuse, when we claimed Alrik’s blood and it was not payment enough for the crimes done – when you told me _we_ would kill them all and I tasted the truth of your hate I understood. You are worthy of him.”

“So that’s why he changed his mind?” Hawke inhaled against Justice’s hair.

“He could not have held back much longer. But yes, that was when I stopped trying to prevent him from pursuing you.”

“That’s – not quite what I heard,” Hawke said, and there was a shift in his tone – Justice flicked through memories trying to understand it before he felt a soft mental nudge and understanding flooded his mind. Hawke was surprised. “Now I don’t want to call you a _liar_ Justice because that – honestly would be a little hard to imagine.” Hawke laughed. “Oh Maker I can feel you getting all tense, don’t bite my head off I just…”

“I permitted him to kiss you,” Justice said, then cringed at his own words. “No – he never required my permission – he has the right to… I accepted that this relationship was what he needed, and that you would not harm him. I still had – fears, doubts, but I realised that fighting this yearning was as much a distraction as anything else could be. When he chose to kiss you, I did not try to convince him otherwise. But that night – there was some disagreement.”

“I thought he wasn’t coming, you know? He told me later he spent an hour ‘arguing with himself’ on the doorstep.” Hawke laughed, but there was a little sadness in it too. “He didn’t even think until I suggested it that it might not have quite been _himself_ he was arguing with.”

“I can only apologise, the distress I caused you both…”

“ _No_ , Justice,” said Hawke quickly. “I’m not upset – you both made it here eventually. I just wondered…”

“Why?”

“Yes. You don’t have to talk if you’d rather not, I just…” Hawke shrugged. “You seemed open to talking about things tonight, I had to ask.”

“You have every right to.” Justice pulled away from the hug reluctantly, turning to watch Hawke’s face as he spoke. “Kristoff courted Aura for many months. Spoke with her parents, brought her gifts. After a time, he proposed marriage. Arrangements were made, a date set – the process was slow. He – there was pain in his memories, but not an unpleasant one. Anticipation, gladness, impatience, a tangled mess but a beautiful thing. Months before he found himself alone with her, touching her, nothing between them _at last_ and such relief but – the memories were intense, and I did not wish to examine them closely. I did not understand that it is not always so – that three years of longing was _enough,_ that he would not wish to wait another second. I had not anticipated that the images his mind conjured up when we were alone were expectations for that first night – I thought I had more time to accept that side of him, to understand. When he kissed you and his mind filled with heat, flashes of thought - you holding him against the wall, lips on his neck, tearing at his clothing, nails on his skin and…” Justice felt a prickling in the back of his mind and prodded at it cautiously, and felt an overwhelming urge to stop talking. “I apologise – Anders does not wish me to continue.”

“At all?”

“No – about his fantasies. I forget that he keeps thoughts private from you. That does not seem appropriate; there is no such barrier between he and I.”

“There probably would be if there _could_ be,” Hawke said. “Mortals like privacy. Most of us, most of the time, anyway.”

“I understood that sex was an expectation for both of you when you met that night,” Justice said. “I was – afraid. Yes, I was afraid.” He studied Hawke’s face, waiting for judgement, but none came. “I did not want to hold him back from happiness, I did not even necessarily need him to slow down, but I have – difficulty, sometimes. Emotional intensity, unfamiliar sensations, these things overwhelm me easily and I needed – reassurance, patience. Anders did not understand; he thought I disliked you, thought I was taking back my acceptance. He resented the intrusion and tried to force me deeper, tried not to think at all.”

“I could tell things weren’t – the best, between you,” Hawke said.

“I was used to the needs of Anders’ body – I had no interest then, but I did not object to the way he used his hand to find release – occasionally I complained at the _frequency_ …” a sharp thought made Justice break off and Hawke snorted.

“Did you embarrass Anders again?”

“This is ridiculous. You have a sexual relationship with him and I cannot tell you these things?”

“Just a bit of mortal weirdness, love.” Hawke laughed and shook his head. “Go on, try not to tell me anything he can’t live down.”

“The thought of him being with another was – more difficult,” Justice said slowly. “I would not know what to expect. He would not know what to expect. Some of the images in his mind were violent – he enjoyed those thoughts and I did not at the time understand why, nor did I wish to. I do not fear physical harm, or pain, but the feeling of powerlessness he chased did not appeal to me.”

Hawke reached out and traced the wrinkled line of Justice’s frown again, and Justice fought not to lean into the comforting touch.

“I did not feel I could refuse anything you and he chose to do,” Justice admitted. “I did not fully understand why that was so frightening – but Anders’ thoughts from his time in the Circle told me that mortals who experience sex in that way do not – they do not find the experience pleasant.”

“No,” Hawke said roughly. “No, Justice, they don’t.” He took Justice’s hand again and squeezed it firmly.

“Despite it all – I was curious,” Justice said. “I hoped you would not notice but…”

“Your hand? I noticed.” Hawke ran his thumb over the back of Justice’s hand, such a little motion but the gentle pressure comforted him and made him lean in a little closer. “I’d been trying not to think about you – that sounds awful, doesn’t it? I just – _Maker_ if you had any idea how long I’d wanted him to be here with me… well, I suppose you do, he was probably exactly the same. I just – I really wanted it to go well. I kept expecting I’d say the wrong thing and he’d bolt and the last thing I wanted to do was bring up – Maker this sounds bad.”

“I scared him. Sometimes I still do.” Justice sighed. “You did not wish to dwell on such things. I understand.”

“But when I saw that little crack glowing in his palm I knew I couldn’t just – pretend.” Hawke shook his head. “Doesn’t really work, does it? Ignoring things that bother you.” He reached out his other hand to trace the little worry line again with a grin. “When I caught hold of his wrist and stopped him – fuck, he was going straight for my cock, we were still fully dressed and couldn’t keep our hands off each other – I honestly thought he was going to walk out.”

“He never considered it,” Justice said. “But I think if he could have taken back our agreement and forced me from his body, in that moment he would have done it.” There was an apologetic flood of warmth from Anders’ mind and Justice responded to it cautiously, feeling reassuring thoughts mingle in between them. Things were better now – easier – but old resentments still hurt.

“Even when he agreed to talk I honestly thought I’d fucked everything up.” Hawke laughed and pushed Justice’s hair back from his face. “Not that I regretted it – it was obvious you weren’t happy and I mean, I didn’t understand you then but I knew you were a person and for better or worse, Anders’ body was – is – your body too. It’s not like you could just wait outside until we were done. And he agreed, he…”

“…despised himself for not thinking of it himself,” Justice took over. “Berated himself as selfish and cruel and no better than a Templar, seeing me as lesser, not considering my freedoms, only his own…”

“So then I had to calm _him_ down as well, and it was shaping up to be the least romantic romantic evening of my _life_. But we talked through it and we sort of – worked things out and I suggested that if you could hear what I said, and he could feel what you thought, then maybe if I just asked…”

“…and we wondered if it could really be that simple, if just a question could change things.”

It was impulsive and sudden, but Justice was starting to learn that much of mortal life was that way – driven by emotion but no less valuable for it. He lunged forward and straddled Hawke’s hips, leaning down to kiss his forehead and enjoying the little gasp and the way Hawke’s hands seized his waist.

“You thought I would say no,” Justice continued. “And so did I until you said it – until I heard you and I felt Anders’ hope and I realised it wasn’t about the bodies, it wasn’t about power. You made him feel safe, and wanted, and loved – you gave him everything I longed for him to have. And I didn’t know how to want you then – but I wanted you _for him_.”

 “You always have a choice with me,” Hawke said, running his fingers up Justice’s sides over his ribs, then around to knead gently across his back and down his spine. “I know this is all new to you, and I know you’re not quite sure if you’re one thing or the other. It doesn’t matter to me, though, it never has. Whatever you decide, I’m here.”

Justice leaned back against Hawke’s hands, arching his back as they worked their way lower. Hawke sat up and pulled him closer, and the heat of his body and the scratch of his beard against Justice’s neck was fascinating, not off-putting or overwhelming at all.

“Can I touch you?” Hawke asked breathlessly, and the question was as welcome as it had been that first night.

“Yes,” said Justice. He let himself be pushed back, a tangle of limbs as Hawke’s lips found his, gentle caresses turning urgent as their bodies responded to each other. There would be blood and destruction and there would be _justice,_ but for now there was Hawke’s teeth at his ear, Anders’ thoughts surging to mingle with his own, minds and bodies that understood each other, moved together and made a choice together. This was no place for a spirit, but it was a place for _him_. Justice knew where he belonged.


End file.
